Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity and ruin.

Happiness is in its highest degree the sister of goodness.

Precious attribute of woe-worn humanity! that can snatch ecstatic emotion, even from under the very share and harrow, that ruthlessly ploughs up and lays waste every hope.

I also became a poet, and for one year lived in a Paradise of my own creation; I imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the names of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated.

There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.

The agony of my feelings allowed me no respite; no incident occurred from which my rage and misery could not extract its food.

But he found that a traveller's life is one that includes much pain amidst its enjoyments. His feelings are for ever on the stretch; and when he begins to sink into repose, he finds himself obliged to quit that on which he rests in pleasure for something new, which again engages his attention, and which also he forsakes for other novelties.